Page 32 of Veil of Obsession
“Fitting,” he mutters, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.
And then movement catches my eye. Below us, in the courtyard just beyond the garden, is his date. Dana. With another man. I recognize him instantly: some rich British heir, something Sterling.
She’s leaning in, her hands on his chest, whispering something, her lips dangerously close. Too close. Then she kisses him.
I flick my gaze toward Lucio, but he’s already watching me.
Not his date. Not the scene unfolding below. Me.
His jaw tenses, his fingers flexing around the cigarette, his shoulders rigid. He doesn’t move. Not when the man pushes her off, shaking his head, his voice sharp even from a distance. Not when she stumbles, humiliated, watching as the man disappears into the crowd.
Lucio just stands there. Silent. Unmoving.
Finally, he speaks. “Huh.”
I raise a brow, shifting slightly against the cold stone railing. “That’s all you have to say?”
He takes another drag, exhaling slowly—this time not in my face. “It’s not unexpected.”
I study him, searching for a crack, a tell, a reaction. But there’s nothing.
No anger. No possessiveness. Just calm, unnerving indifference.
“She’s not yours, then,” I muse, watching him carefully.
Lucio’s lips twitch, but there’s no humor in it. “She was never mine.” He pauses. “You think that if she was mine, I’d let him walk out of here on his own two feet?”
Something tightens in my chest, sharp and ugly. I don’t ask if he knows. Because I know he doesn’t care. And it makes me hate her even more.
We lapse into silence, the sound of the ball drifting up from inside, distant and irrelevant.
Then he turns to me. And suddenly, the air shifts.
“Princess.”
I freeze. Not because of my name, but because of how he says it. Like he’s testing it on his tongue, trying to see if it fits.
IfIfit.
His eyes narrow slightly, studying me too closely, like he’s looking for something just beneath the surface. “Have we met before?”
My breath catches, but my face remains a mask.
“Of course,” I say smoothly. “Our families run in the same circles.”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“No,” he murmurs. “Not like that.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
Does he know? Does he see me? Therealme?
I tilt my head, feigning confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Lucio watches me for a beat too long. Then he exhales slowly, his expression unreadable.
“Never mind,” he mutters, flicking the cigarette over the railing. “Forget I said anything.”
